Courtesy of Wylie OHara Doughty
He is Hubert Ward the movie star, reads the penultimate sentence of John OHaras 1962 Hollywood novel, The Big Laugh, and no son of a bitch can take that away from him. Then comes the last, sardonic phrase a cosmic shaggy-dog punch line uttered either by the omniscient author or by some other Olympian observer: Ha ha ha ha ha.
John OHara born in Pottsville, Pennsylvania, in 1905, raised to celebrity in New York City, often employed by Hollywood studios was a student of American manners from coast to coast. He knew that what was given in this society could as easily be taken away. The Big Laughs final joke could almost apply to the career of John OHara: one of the best-known writers of his generation, whose critical reputation was starting to disintegrate even before his death in 1970.
Geoffrey Wolffs new biography of OHara, The Art of Burning Bridges, is prompting reappraisal of an author too long neglected for various reasons (one of them indicated by the title of the book itself). Reading this good biography reminded me of when I discovered The Big Laugh in 1969, a year when OHaras literary stock had fallen so low that a self-conscious reader might well hide the fact he was enjoying a writer so seemingly out of sync with the era of Pynchon, Heller, Mailer and Barth.
Appropriately, given The Big Laughs subject matter, I was working at the time as an actor in a Hollywood movie, on location in Stockton, California. This movie The Moonshine War, a period tale of backwoods-Kentucky distillers on the eve of Prohibitions repeal had a surprisingly bookish cast and crew. One of its stars, Irish-Englishman Patrick McGoohan, could be heard between setups typing in his trailer at a screenplay in progress. The lead actress, Melodie Johnson, would in a few years (as Melodie Johnson Howe) become a mystery novelist. Our kind and gentle director, Dick Quine, was a literate man whod figure memorably in jazz musician Willie Ruffs notable 1991 memoir, A Call to Assembly. Harry Carey Jr., also in the cast, was taking notes for the fine autobiography hed eventually write. And our young second assistant director had published a Pushcart Prizewinning short story.
So I kept my paperback of The Big Laugh out of sight.
Yet OHara fans seemed to have a sixth sense about one anothers presence. Being driven back from location to the Stockton Holiday Inn one afternoon, I blurted to the productions driver a quiet, white-haired man 35 years my senior Ever read any John OHara?
Well, the driver said with due deliberation, Ive probably read every word hes written.
When we got to the hotel, using MGM per diem money, I bought that man a beer.
My next OHara intuition came 20 years later, in a Malibu restaurant, while interviewing author Ross Thomas. It seemed to me Thomas unique thrillers shared some of John OHaras awareness of how America worked, of the tolls exacted from outsiders trying to be insiders. Yes, said Ross Thomas (an Oklahoman who became a Beltway person for a time but never forgot his roots), he was indeed a longtime admirer of OHaras work, especially his short stories.
My favorite, Thomas said, is the one about the guy in the weekly poker game, who thinks all the other players accept him as an equal until the moment of truth, when one of them tells him, Oh no, Jake, youve got it all wrong. We let you play with us, sure, and well take your money; but youre not one of us. And Ross Thomas uttered his dry Ross Thomas Chuckle: a small, mordant echo of John OHaras Big Laugh.
The Art of Burning Bridges suggests that OHaras strongly dialogue-driven work may have had an influence on several modern playwrights: In a way, writes Wolff, Harold Pinter, David Mamet, and Neil LaBute are in the line of succession from OHaras most combative fictional set pieces. John OHara may have had an even more direct influence on some of the most inventive crime-fiction authors of the past 40 years from Ross Thomas to George V. Higgins to Elmore Leonard.
The violence endemic to crime fiction runs throughout the oeuvre of John OHara, one of Edmund Wilsons original boys in the back room of American literature. Suicide is a common end for the protagonists in OHara stories, starting with the authors sensational 1934 first novel, Appointment in Samarra. Early in his career, OHara was tagged a hard-boiled writer, in the tradition and company of Dashiell Hammett. (James Cain, John OHara, Dashiell Hammett move over. Youve got a new pal, said the Los Angeles News review of The Big Sleep, the 1939 debut book by Raymond Chandler.)
Complementing the physical violence in OHaras work was its verbal and social cruelty. John OHara had an impeccable understanding of what brutal use can be made of impeccable behavior, of how closely the cut of a suit can approximate the cut of a knife, wrote Fran Lebowitz in her introduction to the new Modern Library edition of Butterfield 8.
So where do those modern crime-fiction authors come in? I can draw you a diagram, if youll follow me back to that Stockton location for The Moonshine War in 1969.
Look, the second assistant director (the Pushcart Prize winner) said to me one day, theres the writer.
He indicated a slim, trim-bearded fellow in his 40s standing on the sidelines, wearing a flat cloth cap and watching the setup with a laid-back intensity.
This is his first script, the A.D. said. Hes written a lotta books.
Oh yeah? What kind?
Western novels, mostly.
Westerns? No wonder Id never heard his name: Elmore Leonard.
Several Leonard stories had already been made into movies. But now, in acknowledgment of a changing fiction market, hed determined to stop writing Westerns and start writing crime fiction. He encountered a problem, though: There was no model for the type of novel he wanted to write.
Hammett, I couldnt get into him, Leonard told me in a 1997 interview. I liked Chandler okay, but I didnt learn anything from him. I didnt learn anything from the first-person writers.
The only book he learned anything from, Leonard said, was a 1972 book touted to him by his Hollywood agent H.N. Swanson (whose movie-town clients in earlier decades included Raymond Chandler and John OHara). The book Swanson told Leonard to read was The Friends of Eddie Coyle, a first novel by a former Massachusetts federal prosecutor named George V. Higgins. Higgins striking use of vernacular dialogue electrified Leonard, freeing him to find his own voice. I think Friends of Eddie Coyle is the best crime book written, Leonard said. Yeah.
George V. Higgins, who died in 1999, was clear about whod shaped his writing: John OHara. Higgins quoted with approval OHaras creed: A man cannot be a first-rate writer unless he can write first-rate dialogue. From OHara to Higgins to Leonard, then with Leonard influencing a host of younger writers since.
Dutch Leonard has come a long way from that day in 1969, when he watched us shooting scenes for The Moonshine War. The only time I was on the set, Leonard recalled, [Patrick] McGoohan comes over, and he says, Well, whats it like to stand there and hear your lines all fucked up? Oh, man . . . It was a vexed production from the start, Leonard thought. The producer fired me off the picture and then the director got me back on, about a week later. But he was the wrong director, for this! You know, How To Murder Your Wife, Paris When It Sizzles but then, to do this!
Richard Quine had had many successes as a movie director in the 1950s and 60s, but The Moonshine War marked the start (or maybe the middle) of his decline. His last film was the disastrous The Prisoner of Zenda in 1979, with the by-then-impossible Peter Sellers, who (according to Sellers biographer) went out of his way to humiliate the director. Dick Quine died in 1989, at the age of 68.
There was a black guy that lived on his property, and he worked at NBC, said Leonard. And I ran into him. I was comin outta Chasens about 1992, and he came along on the street . . . and he told me that Quine had killed himself . . . shot himself. Yeah.
I dunno. Well . . . I suppose he wasnt makin it anymore. He wasnt working.
It was a dreadful and violent final act one better suited, one might have thought, to the bleakest fiction of Elmore Leonard.
Or John OHara.
THE ART OF BURNING BRIDGES | By GEOFFREY WOLFF | Knopf 400 pages | $30 hardcover
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